


Inch by Careful Inch

by coricomile



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coricomile/pseuds/coricomile
Summary: The problem is that he's never been good at dating.
Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	Inch by Careful Inch

**Author's Note:**

> Clearing out the old fic.

The problem is that he's never been good at dating.

He's done it enough that all his girlfriends are a giant blur of disappointment and nagging and afternoons between the sheets, giant blocks of memories all smashed together under the weight of them all. He's done it enough that he knows all he has to do is name his time, smile just right, and his new girlfriend will be ready. He's done it enough to know that it always goes wrong somewhere.

And there, of course, is the real problem.

Pete taps his knuckles against the table in time to the karaoke backtrack and watches as the next wreck gets up onto the stage. They're in Arizona, and the weather's hot enough to burn him down to his bones. It's almost night time, but they don't have anywhere important to be, and this is good enough entertainment as any. Joe thinks it's great, anyway, so there's that.

"You could just ask," Andy says, watching Pete watch Patrick. Patrick's flipping through the DJ's song book idly tapping the golf pencil against his cheek. He looks up and grins when he catches Pete's eye, and Pete's chest does that stupid fluttery thing that it always does when Patrick looks at him that way.

"It is kind of pathetic," Joe agrees. He's munching on nachos, cheese at the corner of his mouth as he shoves chips into face. It's kind of gross.

"You're kind of pathetic," Pete counters weakly. Across the room, Patrick hands his slip to the DJ. He wanders back to the table, and Pete can see the big black x's drawn onto his hands from where he's sitting.

"No, really," Joe says as he takes Pete's rumless Coke. "Pathetic on a huge scale. Like, Magic card pathetic."

"Can you shut up?" Pete hisses as Patrick gets to the table, pulling out his seat and plopping down onto it.

"Why's Pete pathetic?" He asks. Joe and Andy laugh, and Pete hates them all.

"The usual," Andy says before Joe can answer. Joe looks put off for a moment, but perks up when he's handed a free drink from a waitress. On stage, the singer is butchering Margaritaville.

Patrick grins and steals some of Joe's nachos. Andy referees the ensuing slap fight, arms crossed over his chest, amused. He's still a baby, Pete thinks as Patrick shoves Joe's head away, munching on the chips victoriously. There's a spot in Pete's chest reserved for him, anyway, whether Pete wants to admit it or not.

The DJ calls Patrick back up a few minutes later, and Patrick goes, smiling sheepishly as he takes the mic. He's in an orange t-shirt and jeans with the knees ripped out, his hat at the quarter turn that means he's managed to charm someone into buying him a drink.

He sings Johnny Cash, low and brazen, and Pete laughs when he recognizes it as Boy Named Sue. Without his guitar, Patrick's nearly naked, his arm crossed at the small of his back, chin tipped up so he can't see quite right through his glasses. Pete listens to him sing, watches him bob around on stage, and figures he has a plan.

When Patrick gets back, they applaud him. He laughs, but his face goes a flushed, cheerful pink as he slumps down next to Joe.

"I'm not a singer," Joe mocks, digging his elbow into Patrick's side. Patrick punches his arm, and it turns into a half hearted scuffle.

Pete slips away from the table and up to the DJ booth, grabbing up a slip of paper and one of the golf pencils. He scribbles his and Patrick's names down and flips through the book to find the number for the song. He has a plan. It's going to work.

Andy's the only one to notice that he went missing, and when he gets back, he's greeted with a questioning look that he leaves unanswered. Andy'll find out soon enough.

"You okay?" Patrick asks him, leaning in across the table. Karaoke night is one of Pete's favorite things, but the rocks he must have swallowed at dinner are making him antsy. He gives a big smile and waves Patrick off.

"Fucking peachy, dude," he says. Patrick doesn't question him, but the frown says he doesn't trust Pete's word.

Ten minutes later, the DJ calls them up. Patrick raises his eyebrows. He's probably weighing the pro of singing to the con of singing with Pete. Pete knows his strengths. Singing isn't really one of them, but, well. He has a plan. He drags Patrick to the stage with him and climbs up, snagging a mic.

"You're kidding," Patrick says when he sees the prompt on the monitor. He doesn't look mad. More amused. Pete grins at him.

"You can even be Cher," he says cheerily. "I know how much you like being a diva."

Patrick's still laughing when he starts singing they say we're young, and it's so great Pete almost misses his own cue. He forgets most of the lyrics and mumbles through most of them, but on the first I got you babe, he slings his arm around Patrick's shoulders and pulls him in. They sing like that, stupid and close, and Pete feels butterflies as the song wraps up.

As it's fading out, he tugs Patrick even closer, counts to three, and kisses him.

The crowd cheers pretty wildly, and Pete can hear Joe and Andy over them all, but it's distant. His heart is trying to pound clear through his chest, and his hands feel heavy and damp like they haven't since he was in high school. He has three seconds of fear that this is all going to nose dive when Patrick grins against his mouth and kisses him back.

"Really?" Patrick asks when he pulls away. He's grinning, and when he pulls Pete off stage, he doesn't let go.

"It's a classic," Pete says. Patrick's hand is warm in his, their palms pressed together and their fingers laced. Patrick laughs and leans in again, mouth skimming across Pete's jaw.

"Yeah," he says. "I guess it is." At the table, Joe and Andy wolf whistle.

"Totally pathetic," Joe says.

"Totally," Pete agrees. "Totally."


End file.
